Carving Hearts
by ForgettablySilent
Summary: Elena Bloodstone, the Medusa Alchemist, is infamous for her crimes, for her three-year-long loyalty to the military, and for her ruthlessness in a fight. Rarely do her opponents win, but if she were to grow soft towards one, what would change? With the new thief in town, the answer to this question may be revealed sooner than we thought. / OC-based
1. Chapter 1

"Elena Bloodstone." The Fuhrer's gravelly voice echoed over the spacious courthouse, booming in the ears of the girl sitting at the defendant's stand. Almost all the military was present, working as the jury- after all, this case directly involved several military officers. Regardless, however, of how many men there were, everyone realised the final decision lay in the Fuhrer's hands. "You have been accused of participating in the murders of eight high-ranking military officers and over ninety civilians. Is it true that you plead guilty to all of these crimes?"

The girl sitting placidly before him couldn't have been older than sixteen. She was stunningly skinny, with hair cut to her shoulders, a black down in colour, so dark it bordered on black. She seemed both frail and sturdy, like a marble statue with a hairline fracture in its base. Her wrists were imprisoned in wooden cuffs, the kind that held her hands apart and prevented her from performing any alchemy. Visible on her palms were alchemic tattoos, circles depicting stone and human transmutation symbols.

She stared out at the crowd of officers, her slender shoulders tall and noble. Her blank blue gaze took in hundreds of angry, hateful faces, and saw only a few officers whom expressed pity.

An officer she didn't know the name of spoke then, his voice confident, as though he knew the answer, but wanted her to say it anyways. "And were you a voluntary participant in the aforementioned murders?"

"I..." the child hesitated, her middle and ring fingers on her left hand curling to scratch at her palm, "...I did not refuse to participate, sir."

"But were you voluntary?" Another officer insisted- that was Colonel Roy Mustang, the man whom had found her, and one of the few to show her any sign of pity.

She did not answer, staring at him with a peculiarly distant expression, as though her mind were miles away.

"Children do as they are taught. If her parents taught her to kill, of course she would grow up believing it was right." He added, returning her gaze with his focused stare.

"Aye, but she attended school." A greying officer mentioned. "It's not as though all her influences were telling her to kill. She had teachers, classmates, friends...her own mother was one of the victims. The only person encouraging her to murder was her father. She could have ignored him and followed everyone else's advice."

Another: "Even if she was trained in that way, it'd be a danger to let her live. She'll just keep killing...If she were an adult, we wouldn't even be having this trial."

A clamour of voices roses up, until the Fuehrer raised his hand, requesting silence. He looked at the girl, whose posture had become so stiff she nearly trembled from the strain of holding it. "Do you regret killing your victims, girl?"

She stared directly forward, and the words that passed her lips were small and quiet. "I do not know, sir. I cannot remember."

Again the officers spoke up, nearly screaming, demanding she be executed at once. So very few came to her defence, and the girl seemed to grow smaller.

Then the voices trickled away once more, diminishing into whispers until they disappeared altogether, the officers distracted by one thing: a uniformed man was moving across the court floor, approaching the teenager surrounded by guards.

This man was monstrously tall, muscled and grisly, with a black, thick moustache and tanned skin. His mouth was pulled into a permanent scowl, and he seemed unafraid, moving closer and closer until he was standing directly in front of the young Elena Bloodstone.

"General Grande, don't get too close!" A voice urged, but the general Basque Grande merely brushed them off, looking at the girl with a frightening glare. "How fast does your alchemy work?"

"Sir?" She asked, taken aback by the strange question.

"How quickly is your transmutation completed, Elena Bloodstone?" He growled, his voice urging her to answer quickly.

"A minute if I'm touching the victim directly. Up to five if I'm working through stone."

He nodded slowly. "My alchemy can work in a matter of seconds. Are you conceited enough to think you could defeat me in a fight?"

The girl shook her head.

"Answer aloud, please."

"No sir."

"Of course you couldn't." He smirked. "But you could probably take down most criminals." The general turned to face the Fuehrer, and spoke loudly, so that everyone in the courtroom could hear him. "This girl is a valuable resource. We have never seen transmutation circles quite like hers, and only she has them, available for research. She's already skilled at combat, and could best most criminals- specifically, serial killers, murderers, and the like. People normal soldiers can't handle. She has a very advanced form of alchemy that she's taken her whole life to perfect, at a skill level that no other person will possibly be able to reach. Are we going to throw that away?" He folded his arms behind his back, taking a breath and ignoring the teen staring at him with wide, unreadable eyes. "We'd be fools to execute her. Give her a chance first. Let the girl prove her penance...her loyalty."

"And how do you suggest we do that, Iron Blood?" The Fuehrer requested. Whispers of shock broke out in a rash, soldiers unable to accept that their Fuehrer would listen to what they considered nonsense.

"Let her work for the military, as a state alchemist, of course!" He placed a hand over his chest, continuing. "She'll work under me, and I'll keep a close eye on her at all times. If I get even the smallest inkling that she's betrayed Amestris in any way, let alone murder, I'll execute her without hesitation!"

There was a moment of silence, a pause as the men digested this new suggestion. Then, there came a polite cough, and the colonel spoke. "With all due respect, sir," Mustang said, directing his comment to the Fuehrer, "my alchemy works just as quickly as Grande's. I can take care of Bloodstone as easily as he can."

"Yes, but you're far too close to the situation." Grande interrupted with a ferocious scowl. "You've befriended the girl, and allowed yourself to grow soft towards her situation. There's no knowing if you'll have the heart to kill her when-_if_-the time comes. There's no risk of that happening with me."

Mustang looked ready to argue, before interrupted by the Fuehrer. Bradley looked at the child, a smile forming on his lips. "Well, Bloodstone? Would you rather go to jail? Or will you serve your military, under the supervision of General Grande?"

The girl looked to the tall man standing with his back to her, before looking back to the leader of her country. "I'll take General Grande, please," she requested in her soft voice.


	2. Chapter 2

**Woow, look how fast this update came. This will probably never happen again.. hahaha**

**Anyways! Ugh. I kind of like this. Writing in third person is really hard for me, I hope I can keep it up. But anyways. :3 Thanks for all the faves/follows! Enjoy!**

Loud crashes could be heard in the distance, followed by a plume of smoke, catching the attention of the three officers. They all seemed to hesitate, until the russet-haired female leapt to action, running directly towards the lingering black clouds. "I got it, boss!" She called to her commanding officer. "You can count on me!"

"No, Neumann!" The general shouted furiously at the major's retreating frame. "Your job is to handle the Stray!" Alas, the young woman was beyond listening.

General Grande growled, before whirling to the other female standing at attention by his side. "Medusa." He fairly snarled, his anger clear in his entire demeanour. "You deal with the Stray. Get the damn library book back from him-but do _not_ injure him, understood? I don't care if you have to let him go, but get the book and leave him unharmed. Otherwise it'll be your neck-we need him in the best condition possible."

"Yes, sir." The Medusa Alchemist saluted, her lips pressed into a fine line, then turned in the opposite direction of her associates, hurrying to comply. Grande stood a moment longer, before releasing a growl of rage and following his more unruly subordinate.

The Medusa Alchemist raced after a figure in a dark cloak, which could be seen leaping from rooftop to rooftop in an attempt to escape. Finally the form slid down the the street opposite hers, disappearing from view. She adjusted her trajectory in turn, running into an open alley, which was divided by a simple chain-link fence. This was easy enough to scale, little more than a running leap, the momentum of which she used to grab onto the topmost bar of the fence and pull herself over it, landing neatly on the ground on the other side. She dusted herself off neatly, and stepped out of the alley at a walking pace.

She could see the vagabond before her-the Stray Alchemist, a thief whom only seemed to steal from libraries-that is, the restricted libraries that only military personnel were supposed to have access to. Central wished to hire him, because his alchemic abilities were beyond those of any normal man, and so he had been dubbed the government's stray dog-ie, the Stray Alchemist. He wasn't a stray dog, though, he was a man, she thought to herself, as she approached him. It was almost a pitiful situation.

"Either the military's hiring less and less capable men or I'm getting a lot better," she heard the man mutter to himself, and her lips quirked into a smirk. He hadn't ever kicked that habit, then. A mistake-thieves should know better than to talk to themselves; they should know better than anyone that people could be listening.

"You shouldn't talk to yourself if what you have to say is incriminating." She let the words slip out into the warm air, folding her arms behind her back, her palms gripping her forearms and her tattoos fully concealed, as she looked at him. He still read when he walked. His hair was still as dark as ever-an obsidian-black, darker than hers-and his nose was still the same as his father's. His dead father's.

He did not look at her, which she counted as a good thing. The moment he did, she knew things would have to change. She'd hoped she would never have to face him. This task was almost painful. His answer was bland, his voice dry and brusque, bordering on rude-he knew, obviously, that he was speaking to a member of the military. Who else would confront him? "Well, to be fair, this street was clear when I started speaking. And besides, it's healthy to talk to yourself once in a while."

She shook her head at his complete obliviousness-he avoided cracks and potholes in the sidewalk with unexpected and blind grace, but when it came to dealing with people, he was absolutely clueless as to how to behave. How he survived at all, how he managed as a thief without revealing himself constantly, was beyond her. "Yes, but you never know when someone may walk outside." She said. "And an enemy of the state's is an enemy of the people's. They'd report you in a heartbeat, out of fear of the military if nothing else."

He sighed. "Yeah, yeah...look, is there something you want? Because if you don't mind, I'm kind of busy."

The Medusa Alchemist sighed and lifted the book from his hands, taking him by surprise. "Yes. I need you to return this, please."

At long last, the thief looked at her.

His eyes were still as bright and beautiful, the colour of green, shining emeralds, round and innocent, framed by short, unnaturally dark lashes. Those were what she'd missed most, but what she loved about them was gone. They were surrounded by dark circles, haunted and lost. Those green eyes scared her, the light wiped out. She'd done that, she knew, and it took all her willpower not to turn away.

He grabbed for the book, and she took a step back, holding it out of his reach, still transfixed by his focused, curious gaze. He was trying to remember who she was. She'd grown a lot, so it wasn't surprising it was taking him this long.

"That's awfully rude. I was reading that." He pouted. "Do I know you?"

She shrugged. "I suppose you shouldn't have stolen it. And I don't think so." What a liar she was. She wished she could have just taken the book by force and kept him from looking at her. Those eyes were murder.

He snapped his fingers together suddenly, pointing at her with a sort of delighted accusation. "Yes, I do! You're Elena Bloodstone!" He grinned then, a proud child in his delight. "I'd recognise that crimson streak anywhere." This, of course, was referring to the odd crimson-red streak she dyed straight through the centre of her long, dark hair.

Her hand went to touch her bangs, and then she pushed her hair out of her eyes, sighing and shaking her head. "Yes, my name is Elena Bloodstone." She said, and started to leave, brushing past the young man.

"You know that's not to book I stole, right?" He called after her retreating frame, causing her to come to a standstill. She turned to look at him, and he opened his bag, showing her a pile of books. "I stopped by the public library earlier."

She would have smiled if she'd had it in her. Instead she sighed, a short and annoyed sound. "Then return the one you stole." She demanded, stepping forward.

This time he was the one to step back. "On one condition." He beamed. "You have to go out for lunch with me, tomorrow."

She shook her head. "No." She said, and lunged for his bag; just as quickly, he yanked it out of her way, predicting her manoeuvres with a cheerful grin.

"Then no deal." He answered, and started to walk off. The woman sighed. No violence. She couldn't make him stop, not in her normal way.

"Alright." She deadpanned, and the Stray Alchemist turned, his expression hopeful. "I'll meet you on my break. Thirty minutes at the most, and we'll meet at the coffee shop nearest Central Command. You know the one, right?"

"Jo's Cafe, right?" He asked. "The one run by the guy with the snake tattoo?"

The Medusa Alchemist nodded. "Yes, that one. So do we have a deal?"

He hesitated, drawing out his answer as long as he could, until a scowl appeared on the woman's young face, and then grinned. "I suppose that'd work." He said, handing over a tattered old notebook before resuming his walk away. "See you round, Elena." He called, and the girl looked down at the notebook.

Property of Brigadier General Thomas Knights. Of course. Just like all the others he stole.

-o-o-o-

"How did you get the journal back so quickly?" The general wanted to know, looking down at her as he pocketed it. They were taking care of the mess created by the altercation the general and major had encountered earlier; a chimera created by the government gone rogue.

Elena Bloodstone shrugged as she redrew the circle her commanding officer had shown her, activating it and repairing another stretch of road. "I agreed to meet him for coffee tomorrow." When the male raised a brow at her, she added, "he has reason to be interested in me. We were classmates, friends even, before-" She paused, before rephrasing, "-a long time ago."

Basque Grande nodded. "I see." He said in his gravelly voice, so much deeper and rougher than the Stray's. It made her skin itch to hear, but he was the only person she felt she could trust. The first man to give her a reasonable chance of earning respect. "Well, are you going to have coffee with him?"

"Yes." She answered quietly. "I thought perhaps I could work on convincing him to join the military." She glanced at the general, whom seemed to have gained interest suddenly. "You, of course, may take credit for that. I don't want to be his recruiter. The last thing I need is to have to train new meat."

The general snorted. "Yes, new state alchemists are pathetically embarrassing additions to the team." He agreed, glaring at the currently unconscious Neumann. "But I'd love the chance to train the Stray. He's already got it halfway down."

She shrugged. "In my memory, Stray was a slacker, a lazy, poor excuse of a student. I don't want to be tasked with such a stubborn man."

"That's because you're not seeing the big picture, Medusa!" He chuckled. "Whoever gets credit for him gets a lot of fame. Just like Roy Mustang, lapping up all the attention for his new recruit."

"The prodigy kid?" Elena raised a brow. "Fullmetal? No thanks. I'd rather not have to deal with someone like him either."

"You were a kid when you entered the military too, you know." He smirked wryly, and she inclined her head.

"Indeed, but I was sixteen, not fourteen, and I like to think I entered under a rather special predicament." She said, finishing the last of the repair work and standing, dusting off her military-issue navy blue slacks. She approached the general and passed him, wrapping an arm around Neumann's shoulder and lifting her up with a small noise of complaint. The general moved to the major's other side and helped to lift her as well, and together the two headed towards Central Command, unconscious military official in tow. "Go on and meet him for coffee, Medusa, and report the entirety of your conversation to me." He ordered. "I doubt you can do any more than anyone else in convincing him to join the military, but if you succeed, well, we'll be blessed."

"Indeed, sir." The young woman nodded, and adjusted her grip, staring directly forward, her expression as entirely blank and unreadable as it always was.

-o-o-o-

She approached the coffee shop at an almost hesitant pace, still clothed in her uniform, and chewed on her lip, lost in her own thoughts. She could see him from the front door, his nose stuck in his book, waiting patiently for her arrival. If she hadn't already told the general she was going to meet him, Medusa may have listened to the voice screaming in her head to run.

Instead she opened the door, and approached the male. She stood behind the seat across from him, her hands folded behind her back, out of his sight.

He looked up at her, and grinned warily. "Why are you standing?" He asked. "Go ahead and sit down, Elena. Geez, stop acting so formal."

"My apologies." She said, her voice so bland, blank and crisp, as she slid into the seat. The girl looked oddly uncomfortable in her position, her posture straight as an arrow, her crystal-clear blue eyes gazing at the young thief curiously.

He sighed, and opened his mouth in an attempt to speak, only to be interrupted by the young and rather pretty waitress that had approached them. "Hello, may I get you anything?" She said cheerfully, wearing a practiced smile.

"Black coffee, please." Elena Bloodstone deadpanned, and her companion grinned.

"Could I have some tea, please?" He asked.

"Of course; what would you like?" She scribbled on her little notebook as she spoke.

"Earl Grey." He answered, and the young woman nodded and turned away. He then looked at the Medusa Alchemist, and again tried to start his conversation. Soon the words spilled out, stumbling and stammering in an attempt to reveal his thoughts and questions all at once.

"So what happened to you?" He demanded. "I haven't heard from you in years. The last I heard, I got a letter saying you were dead? How the hell are you alive? And why are you a state alchemist? I thought you hated alchemy!"

Elena sighed, folding her hands together and running her right thumb over the side of her left palm, her eyes focused on these simple motions. "I'm surprised he sent you a letter. If I was him, I wouldn't have bothered. It wasn't like anyone expected you of all people to return to Central. Why did it matter if you knew what happened to me?"

"What _did_ happen to you?" The man insisted, his green eyes bright with conflicted worry.

His words hit a stone wall, as Elena threw her shoulders back, looking him square in the eye. Her jaw was tight and her gaze sharp as knives. "You'd know that if you bothered to pay attention. If you'd just get your head out of your books and looked at what was around you, you would've found out a lot sooner that I was alive. There was a whole trial and everything. How could you miss that?"

"Well, to be fair, for the last two years I've been in physical therapy adjusting to this," the male answered, pulling up his left pants leg to show an automail leg, gleaming in the fluorescent light.

She stared at the leg and sighed, shaking her head slowly. "You've changed too, Dante." She said quietly.

Dante sighed as well, and leant back as their waitress returned, drinks in tow. She set them down at the now-silent table, and ran her hands over her apron, straightening out a few near-invisible wrinkles. "Can I get you anything else?"

"I'm fine. You?" Elena asked, raising a brow at her old friend.

He shook his head. "No, I'm fine. Thank you." Dante smiled at the woman, and again she left the two alone.

The Medusa Alchemist sipped from her coffee, allowing the silence to stretch between them. It was almost enough to make the man complain; he wasn't getting any answers out of her easily.

"I see you don't wear gloves anymore." He said. "Your hands...how long have you had those tattoos?"

The smirk that formed slowly on her lips was positively bone-chilling. "Longer than I'd have liked." She said coolly, splaying her hands out to show them. There was a mirthless humour in her eyes, a display of cold self-hatred that was, to the young man before her, rather terrifying. In that moment, he loathed alchemy almost as much as she did.

"Why do you have them?" He insisted. "Since you hate alchemy..."

She sighed, staring at him before suddenly rising to her feet. "I have to go to the restroom." She said. "I'll return shortly."

He blinked and nodded. "Um. Alright." He said, surprised by her sudden, rapid movements. It was almost as though she were trying to make an escape.

In a whirl of motion, she walked away, heading for the lavatories, and he sighed and leant back. "Geez..." Dante muttered, wondering why she was being so stubborn. They were friends, so why would she be so closed off to him? What had he done that was so horrible?

He was interrupted from his bout of self-deprecation when a girl with russet-red hair and hazel eyes landed heavily in the seat Elena Bloodstone had inhabited just minutes ago. "Hey, your name's Dante Knights, right?" She grinned.

Dante looked at her in surprise, analysing her within a moment. She had a fair build from regular exercise, reaching an average height-she had to be shorter than Elena-and her cheeks were spattered with freckles. Her grin was cocky and her nose was crooked, presumably broken in some long-ago fight. "Yeah." He said suspiciously. "Who are you?"

"I'm a friend of Elena's." She said dismissively, smirking at him. "So how'd you get a frosty bitch like her to go on a date?"

"Elena's not a bitch." He seemed almost insulted, causing the girl to laugh and cover her hand over her mouth. "She's not!"

"How long has it been since you've known her?" She demanded. "Elena's cold as ice; it's ridiculous. I don't think I've ever seen her act friendly...hell, she isn't even pleasant towards anyone, let alone friendly. And then she just goes and dates you without a second thought? What makes you so different?"

"Major!" Elena's voice, sharp now, interrupted the two, as the woman approached them, eyes flashing. "What are you doing here?"

"Major?" Dante repeated, looking between the two.

The red-head only grinned, and Elena frowned. "Dante, this is Major Hannah Neumann. She works along with me under Brigadier General Basque Grande."

The male's expression closed off, and he nodded, standing abruptly. "I see." He said, and the Medusa Alchemist raised her brow.

"Is something the matter?" She asked, and he sighed, shaking his head. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and his scowl rivalled hers, when he questioned what had happened.

"If I knew you were going to use this chance to spy on me, I wouldn't have asked you out at all." He said coldly, and her expression faltered. Amazingly, the young woman seemed unbalanced, having not expected the accusation.

"Spy on you? I didn't know Neumann was going to show up." She argued, and he laughed humourlessly.

"Just forget about it. That's really messed up of you, Elena. I get I'm not the best person, but at least don't lie to my face." He said, setting down the money for his tea before pushing past her.

Her cheeks flushed and she grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. "I am a lot of things, Dante Reginald Knights, but I am not a liar. If I say I didn't do something, I promise you it wasn't done, and I did not choose to spy on you. Neumann's an idiot for deciding to show up here, but don't blame me for her mistakes." She said, her eyes wide. She spoke quickly, yet still quietly, her tone low and serious.

He just rolled his eyes and pulled away. "Tell it to the judge." He said dryly, and left her there standing.

"For the record, I am not stupid!" Neumann argued. "I can go where-ever I damn well please for lunch, just as much as you can! How dare you be so insulting."

"Shut the fuck up." Bloodstone scowled at her. "I don't have time for your wasteful chatter. I have to go report to the general as to exactly why I won't be able to help him recruit Dante, and you're going to be there when I tell him."

"What?!" Her eyes widened. "No, Elena, that's no fair! You can't do that!"

"Maybe next time you won't be so foolish as to interrupt me in front of others, then." She said coldly, striding towards the door with angry, purposeful steps.


End file.
